


Birds in the Hand

by atlasdam



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Found Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlasdam/pseuds/atlasdam
Summary: A collection of one-shots.1. Single mom Primrose visits a little chapel in a moment of need. (Modern day AU)





	Birds in the Hand

Yusufa stayed with Tressa on the weekends, when Primrose worked late into the night and came back home smelling like musk and alcohol. Whenever her friend rang on their studio apartment, Tressa would squeal “Yuyu!” and throw her tiny four year-old body into waiting arms to babble about her latest adventure, her plans for this week’s sleepover. The sight used to fill Primrose with the dangerous thought that she was doing okay by Tressa. That if she simply tried hard enough, she could substitute for who Tressa had lost far too soon. 

But Yusufa had finally gotten her big break, landed a major role in a musical production that would take her across Orsterra. Primrose had taken them out to Yusufa’s favorite restaurant to celebrate, trying to ignore how panicked and selfish the news made her feel. 

Yusufa didn’t know, but without her help Primrose would have to quit her second job even if it was the majority of her income. She didn’t have anyone else to call friend or family, nor enough money to hire a stranger to stay with Tressa overnight. Taking her little girl to work with her was out of the question, too. (Frankly, she would sooner kill her clients than allow them anywhere near Tressa.) And that meant they would have to find somewhere even smaller to live - which she could hardly bear subjecting Tressa or her credit score to so soon after their last move. 

On their last weekend together, Yusufa dropped by Primrose’s flat earlier than usual with a bouquet and a tote bag of farmer’s market fruit in hand. Primrose told her to sit tight while she ran some errands, pulled up a Ghibli movie on her laptop, and kissed Tressa bye-bye. 

“I love you! Come back!” Tressa yelled, sneaking short arms around her neck for a quick hug. 

“As soon as I can,” Primrose promised as she always did. “Be good, sweetheart.”

The nearest corner store was a fifteen minute walk away, past a park that was as old as the city. On her way there, Primrose saw a little chapel that she had never noticed before. It was a ways from the street curb, almost hidden under the greenery of a lush garden spoiled sweet by its keeper. There wasn’t even a parking lot, only a stone footpath that stopped short of reaching the cement sidewalk. 

She faltered, slowed to a stop. Then she walked over.

Primrose didn’t think of the Sacred Flame much. It existed. She believed in the power of faith, but not the servile sort that its institutions seemed to demand. Some people found comfort in its presence though, and she was suddenly overcome with the need to be listened to without comment. 

Primrose sat gingerly in one of the pews and drew her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It was cool inside. The Flame flickered invitingly on the altar. She laid her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes. 

She had been alone for most of her life. Primrose had long come to terms with her calloused spirit. It allowed her to survive. But she had to give Tressa something beyond survival. How?

Tressa’s parents had been… unbelievably kind people, the only ones of her father’s friends to care for Primrose after his murder twelve years ago. They kept tabs on her and when Tressa was born, they had begged her to move in with them - ostensibly because they wanted a live-in babysitter but really because they knew Primrose was on the verge of homelessness at the time. Her father’s enemies had made sure his estate or assets never reached her. For the short time that she lived with the Colziones, thinking about her own parents didn’t overwhelm Primrose with emotion. 

Two years ago, a drunk driver killed Tressa’s parents on their way to a general checkup at the local hospital. Primrose had taken the news numbly at first. Then she learned that they had already written her into their will as Tressa’s guardian in the event of their deaths. That drove her to wrenching, sobbing tears for the first time in a decade. 

She was still navigating the legal tangles of adopting Tressa - the hardest part of which was convincing the courts of her financial capability - but she was glad for the work. For the purpose. Tressa was going to be strong and smart. Not because her hand was forced like Primrose’s was, but because she would grow up knowing with certainty that if things weren’t good, it would be within her power to make things better. Primrose would make sure of it.

That was, if she could keep them together. Lofty resolutions were easy. Primrose wanted to give her little girl everything, but soon she might have nothing at all to give. 

“I can’t stand feeling weak,” Primrose confessed to the Flame quietly. She felt tears begin to form, but she was too occupied with keeping her crying silent to wipe them away. 

Then she felt a soft hand rest against her face. Primrose looked up to see a woman with eyes like the Flame embodied. Something about her seemed… ethereal. She was dressed like the clerics of long-ago, and seemed years younger and older than Primrose at the same time. 

“Hello. My name is Ophilia,” the woman said. “May I hold you?”

Primrose hesitated, then nodded. Ophilia smoothed her white robes and sat next to her.

Primrose's favorite childhood memory was of a field of flowers she had visited with her father shortly before he was killed. The sky had been a dazzling blue and the green-stalked flowers a yellow deeper than the sun. To her mind’s eye it looked like summer, but she couldn’t recall feeling any heat on her skin - only the rare and joyous life of the colors surrounding her. 

When Ophilia hugged her, it kind of felt like that memory. For the moment that it lasted, the touch made Primrose feel like all the fractured pieces of her mind and body were _hers_ , even as they surely and eventually would return to forces too vast to care for her name. 

It was freeing. Comforting. Primrose leaned back slowly out of Ophilia’s arms. 

“Thank you,” she said. “My name is Primrose. Primrose Azelhart.” 

Ophilia smiled widely at her. They sat together for a while, hand in hand. 

“I have to go now,” Primrose said, “but I wish I could stay longer. Thank you again, Ophilia.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Ophilia said, and didn’t let go of her hand as they stood. "You won't be alone, Primrose. I promise."

Primrose stayed in the doorway as her eyes re-adjusted to the brightness of the day. She turned around to ask Ophilia if there was any way they might meet again, even if it was just for a coffee, but the other woman had disappeared without a sound. The pews were dusty and in need of a fresh coat of resin, and no Flame glowed upon the dais. 

Primrose blinked. The outside of the chapel, too, suddenly looked neglected. The garden was overgrown, threatening to swallow the small structure rather than sheltering it as she had first thought. She checked the time and saw not a minute had passed since she had wandered off the sidewalk. 

A knowing acceptance washed through her. Primrose turned and continued on her way to buy lunch and chocolates for three. 

The store’s card display included one with a hand-painted basket of apples on the front. Primrose added it to her purchases and left the card just inside the chapel’s doorway where she had last seen Ophilia standing. She wasn’t one for whimsy, but doing this felt right.

Ophilia was going to stay with her for a long time. Primrose's feet felt light, almost like they wanted to dance again. Life was hard, yes, but she would figure things out. She always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh Octopath... This collection is starting with a series featuring noble/rogue pairs! Thank you for reading!


End file.
